The Boy Next Door
by RosemarieCraig
Summary: Lisa and Greg have lived next door to each other all their lives. Lisa has heard the shouting in the House's home, she's seen Greg at his lowest. Now they're together as teenagers, what can't he tell her? Abuse Warning


The houses were next door to each other. Hardly a foot between the upstairs windows. Lisa had always found it weird that there were windows right opposite each other. But it had always been okay. Because the only person who had ever lived next door was Greg House. And Lisa Cuddy loved him. They had grown up in those houses, right next door. They would open their bedroom windows in the middle of the night and talk for hours. He was almost always in his room. He was always available to talk to. Lisa took him for granted, really. They'd been like brother and sister. But now they were teenagers, and they'd been going out for a year. Lisa had seen the results of his father coming home. She'd seen the bruises. As she lay in her bed, watching Greg's yellow curtains, she remembered when they'd been about ten, and she'd first seen what happened.

_It started with yelling. Lisa was sitting on her bed, colouring in a biology diagram for school when it started. Greg's bedroom door slammed. The sun was bright and warm outside, so Lisa's window was open, and she could hear everything._

_"You are a worthless piece of shit, Gregory"_

_"I'm sorry, Father" he said, his head hanging as the large man gripped his arm tight._

_"You make me ashamed"_

_"I'm sorry"_

_"You're an embarrassment and a pain and a know-it-all"_

_"I'm sorry, Father" he repeated again_

_"You're destroying my life. I wish you'd never been born!"_

_"Father, I-" he was cut off with an echoing slap around the face. Lisa gasped, and immediately clapped her hands over her mouth. John House hadn't heard her, he was so engrossed with his anger and longing to lash out._

_"You need to learn what it is to be respectful, to listen to people who're smarter than you, and shut up when no one cares what you have to say"_

_"I'm sorry, Father" he said, leaning away from his father's flying spittle._

_"Don't you dare move away from me" John's grip tightened on his son's arm and Greg flinched, biting his lip. Lisa watched with a morbid fascination and horror. "Turn around and lean your hands on the bed"_

_"Yes sir" Greg turned slowly and bent over the side of his bed, his back to the window. John removed his belt slowly, making it rattle. Greg began to shake, detesting the noise that always meant pain. John pulled the belt back and flicked it forward so it bounced on the boy's lower back. Greg whimpered and Lisa covered her eyes, watching between her fingers, unable to move or stop watching as the belt came down over and over on her best friend's flesh. Greg was full blown sobbing by the time a sweaty, red faced John stopped beating him._

_"Stand up, you little shit" he spat, and the boy stood slowly, his body shaking with pain and humiliation. "If you ever embarrass me like that again, I'll beat you until you can't stand. Now, what do you say?"_

_"Sorry Father, thank you for showing me I was stupid and worthless, Father" he whispered, his head bowed, his shirt still riding up his back, exposing the stripes of red flesh._

_"You can stay in here until tomorrow. You'll only miss three meals"_

_"Thank you, Father" he said. John stood, taking him in for a moment. Suddenly, the man lunged at his son and pushed him roughly onto the floor, bashing his head against the wall. Greg yelped like a dog and Lisa felt the tears streaming down her face._

_"Never forget, Gregory, that you are unlovable. You are stupid. You are pathetic. Be a man, Gregory, and stop doing pathetic things like reading and playing your sissy piano. Grow up, boy"_

_"Yes Father, I'm sorry" he slurred from the floor. John House turned and left the room, slamming the door. It locked from the outside, and Greg was trapped. He began to cry silently, gathering himself up against the wall and pulling his legs up close to him, so his chin was resting on his knees._

Lisa came back into the present, sighing at the memory. She hated the thought of Greg being hurt. But it wasn't an unusual occurrence. Most days the thin, angry boy had a bruise, or he didn't sleep in his room, or she heard the endless tirade of horrible things John would shout at his son. Greg opened his curtains, and Lisa knelt up on her bed to speak to him. He leant on the sill and rested his chin on his hands. The friends smiled at each other over the one foot gap. They were seventeen, both in the last year of high school. They both wanted to be doctors. Greg kept his face partially turned away from her, so she couldn't see his right side.

"Greg, what's wrong?"

"Nothing"

"Can I see your cheek?"

"I don't know, can you?" he said, deflecting

"'May I?" she said, tutting her disapproval. Greg turned slowly to face her, and she gasped. A huge, deep black bruise had appeared on his cheek, covering his eyebrow down to his jaw. His nose had been bleeding, and his eye was swollen almost shut, a cut breaking the bruise below the eye. "Shit Greg"

"It's nothing"

"What do you mean, it's nothing? This is insanity! You can't seriously believe this is normal?" she was shaking, her anger towards John House multiplying as she saw her friend rest the side of his head on the window.

"He saw me with James. We were walking back from school, and he gave me a bite of his sandwich. Dad... interpreted it as being romantic. He doesn't want me to be gay"

"But you're not! Besides, it's illegal to hurt someone because of that! And hitting you is just wrong, Greg!"

"I deserved it!" his voice was raised, trying to defend the indefensible. Because it was easier to believe that he was bad, that it was his fault, than that his father wanted to hurt him.

"No. No, you never deserve it" Lisa said quietly, appalled that he could even think it

"You remember that time I broke my arm?"

"You mean when he shoved you up against the wall and kicked you until it broke?" she named it for what it was

"Yeah" he whispered, ashamed

"What about it?"

"It was because I worked out... that he's not my biological father. I told him, and he flipped out. I broke my arm, fractured two ribs, and had to get surgery to stop the internal bleeding in my stomach. That's the only time I can't blame myself for the punishment"

"You are never to blame! Even if you do something wrong, he can't just beat you up for it"

"It's proportional"

"No it isn't! It seems that whenever I look out of this window I can see you suffering through one of his 'punishments'! He's always hitting you, and I can't stand it anymore"

"He's not always hitting me! That's only for the not that bad stuff I do" he slammed his mouth shut, wishing he hadn't said it. Now he would have to reveal the pain that went well beyond broken bones and bruises.

"What do you mean?" Lisa said, feeling cold "Does it get worse? Worse than I've seen?"

"No. No, I didn't mean it!" he sounded panicked

"Greg, what does he do to you?"

"Nothing!"

"Greg. Tell me." she said, taking authority over the boy across from her.

"Fine! But you have to promise not to tell... Not anyone, ever!" he sounded so much younger than he was in that moment, and Lisa almost expected him to offer her a pinky to swear on, or a spit covered palm.

"I promise"

"Okay. It's not just him hitting me. You know those nights I'm not in my room?"

"Yeah"

"They're usually spent in the garden. There's a rope attached to a tree near the wall at the back, and he ties my wrists together and then to the tree. That's for when I do stupid stuff like coming home late or dropping grades, or... or when he catches me talking to you" Greg said reluctantly

"Oh Greg... How long has this been going on?"

"He first left me outside when I was about five. He first tied me up overnight on my seventh birthday"

"Five?"

"Yeah. I always eat meals outside. Well, breakfast and lunch anyway. Mom insists I eat dinner inside with them. Dad usually puts chillies or pepper on my food so it's hardly edible. And when I'm really bad, and that's not as infrequently as it should be, I get ice baths. I've almost drowned eight times from him holding me down, and once I did die. He had to do CPR and stuff to get me going again" he had his head in his hands now, ashamed of what he was saying. He looked as though he might be crying.

"It's okay Greg, you don't need to tell me anymore" Lisa whispered soothingly.

"I've started now. He makes me go on horribly long runs, like he set 20 miles in 90 minutes last week. I mean, I'm a fast runner, but there's no way I can run that! I did it in 113 minutes, and before I'd got my breath back, he's kicking and hitting me. God Lisa... It really hurt. It always hurts"

"Oh Greg, I'm so, so sorry"

"It's my fault"

"No. No, it's never your fault. What happened tonight?"

"You remember those sneakers your dad gave me for my birthday?"

"Yeah sure"

"He found them. I'm not allowed gifts, see. It's accepting charity. Once I open a gift, I have to keep it in the bottom draw of my wardrobe. I'm not allowed to keep it, even if it's from family. Anyway, he found the sneakers. He was really mad. I've never seen him that mad" he sounded afraid "He got some scissors and ripped off the stitching so he just had the rubber bit on the sole. And he started whacking me with it, all over. When he was done, he made me stand up and close my eyes, and then he hit me across the face with it. So that's how that bruise got there"

"It's not fair, Greg. You don't deserve this"

"But that's the point! I do deserve it, otherwise he wouldn't do it!"

"No, he's just a sick, angry old man. You do not deserve to be in pain"

"I do. I do stupid things, and he makes it right"

"You're insane! Can't you see-" she shouted. Greg flinched away from her sudden volume and anger "sorry, Greg. It's okay. We won't talk about it any more if that's what you want"

"We leave soon any way"

"Yeah, only a semester left before we go to med school"

"Night, Lisa"

"Night Greg" they held hands briefly over the gap and went back to their beds, pulling their windows shut and the blinds down.


End file.
